No-Go for TriVols in Texas

The word is out: the TriVols will not be competing in Texas at Collegiate Nationals.

On one hand, it is bad news for my project because my goal for the spring initially was to top my performance from last year. On the other, bigger, better hand, it gives our team some stress relief and new, easier goals.

In the next two months there will be about six local triathlons, including the TriDeltathon on campus, which always falls during Nationals. These short "sprints" are a great way to jump into the sport, and they offer us the opportunity to volunteer and promote our club.

My personal goal, however, is the Rev3 Half Ironman-distance race. It is the next step up from an Olympic-distance race, the longest I've attempted thus far. It comprises a 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike and 13.1-mile run. Taken individually, I know I can do each event. Even together, I know I can finish. But I don't want to just finish; I want to race for speed, time and overall placement.

That means I need to really step up in the next few weeks. So this is an open invitation for training partners outside the normal tri club schedule. I need to do long rides, long runs, and agonizing swims -- all while staying uninjured.

Can I do it?  We'll see on May 9th.

I (didn't) Shave My Legs For This?

The first race of the season has come and gone, but the results sheet doesn't tell the whole story--not even close.

A sunny Saturday gave way to a soggy Sunday as we were greeted at 7:30 a.m. by rain pelting our hotel room window. We were lucky the race started at 10 Central time, which is at least two more hours of sleep and prep time than we're accustomed to. Continental breakfast and two servings of coffee from an undersized Styrofoam cup later, we drove to the race site.

The emcee, standing under an RV's awning, broke the news: there would be no swim. We weren't surprised, considering the water was 51 degrees and the air temperature was about 45. The event would be a duathlon (its technical term, although swimming specialists call it "the shaft"). 

Wearing just a triathlon suit, arm warmers and rose-lensed glasses, I toed the starting line. The race began uphill for the better part of a mile, followed by a wild dash down the same incline. Every footstrike reverberated through my legs. I was terrified of slipping, but it would have been more dangerous to fight the momentum.

Once on the bike, which was to be 15 miles, I realized I'd forgotten my computer. Aside from not knowing my current speed and distance, though, it was a small loss. I told myself I would just ride as hard as possible while trying not to get passed. And that strategy worked for a while; when six or seven familiar faces crept by, I increased my speed and worked to keep up.

I held on for a long time. A really long time--almost too long. The group ahead of me slowed, and I looked at the Interstate 75 on-ramp with confusion.

"They sent us off course!"

"We're already at 15 miles. What the @#!&?"

It was then that a red hatchback drove up behind us and confirmed that Yes, we had missed a turn, and Yes, we would have to cover the full distance. It was an angry mile or two before we all sped up again, knowing our race was ruined. In T2, after having ridden 23.8 miles, Joe Peeden and I discussed our options: quit, or run?

We ran. Mostly together, mostly with numb feet, through mostly mud puddles and quicksand bogs (OK, not really quicksand--though the mud did eat one of Joe's racing flats). We passed people who thought we were running a second lap, or a cool-down. We still picked off (and maybe pissed off) other runners. We flew down that same hill, though our feet were so numb that we actually ran faster; who cares how much it hurts if you can't feel it? And we crossed the line together, jumping in sarcastic glee as we finished one of the dumbest races ever. Joe and Drew, 38th and 39th out of 46.

Ironically, if you calculate my actual bike speed based on the distance we rode, this might have been my fastest bike race ever at 21.1 mph. It's a shame that our results don't reflect how well we did or could've done. All things equal, we would have gotten 11th and 12th with the correct bike distance; I suspect Joe would have run much faster without nine extra miles on his legs, and I might also have been able to go a little quicker. 

But for all the complaining---no swimming, too cold, too wet, poor course management, blisters, sore legs, ruined shoes, skewed results---we always manage to say, "Remember that race? Yeah, that was a good trip."

Coping Mechanisms: A Checklist

Today, I had the chance to use my time-honored method for dealing with undue stress. My debit cards and $60 in cash were stolen from my locker at the pool yesterday. Besides working on the police report and talking to customer support until midnight, I found out today that more transactions appeared after the banks had credited my accounts. So I had money, then I had no money, then I got my money back . . . then I lost it again. I've been preoccupied all day, even taking UTPD phone calls during class today. So how do I deal with it?

1. Avoid people. But if I have to interact with them, acting surly and/or sarcastic is highly encouraged. Skirt obligations by saying I have work to do, or that I don't feel well.
2. Do absolutely no work. The "I'm busy" thing is just smoke and mirrors. It's a fact that I will not get anything when I'm under mental duress.
3. Go for a run that gets increasingly faster until my stomach hurts and I have to walk. Yes, I skipped the spin class. It helped me avoid people and "do no work." I ran out my door for 26:37 today, eventually peaking at slightly less than 6:00/mile. And I was still a mile from my apartment.
4. Obsess over my body hair for at least 15 minutes. Will shaving my legs make this situation go away? No? Well, shit.
5. Make (and devour) a BBQ chicken pizza. I have $31 to my name right now. This pizza tastes like it would cost half of that at Mellow Mushroom. Somehow, I've come out ahead.

This weekend is our first triathlon at the Natchez Trace State Park. I predict a cold, cold swim . . . or a mandatory duathlon. 

And, Dr. Koella, you can take one thing away from this post. I may completely skip all my real work, but I will not neglect to blog about it.

Frankenpizza

Stuffed portobello mushroom pizza!

P.S. This meal probably cost less than $3.50 and is way awesome.

Review: "Green Zone"

This is probably the first and only time I'll ever see a movie before my good friend and self-made film critic Devon Holbrook of Rushmore Movies fame, so I want to take advantage of it.

Green Zone, a not-so-subtle dig at the policies of the George W. Bush administration, exposes some of the untruths of the early days of the Iraq war -- specifically, the lack of Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD) operations.

Matt Damon (Dogma, The Bourne _____) stars as Chief Warrant Officer Roy Miller, tasked with locating and securing WMD storage zones. Not surprisingly, he becomes disenchanted when three consecutive sites prove to be duds and his unit suffers unnecessary casualties.

But in the military, there is such a thing as a stupid question. So Clark Poundstone, a Washington spin doctor played by Greg Kinnear (Stuck on You, Little Miss Sunshine), forces Miller to take the investigation into his own hands. With the help of CIA provocateur Martin Brown, Miller learns the source of the faulty intelligence. And in a fairytale ending, he briefs the top international news outlets on what really happened. Miller's report suddenly and dramatically changed public opinion on the war and caused Bush to admit his lies, and the public ousted Bush from office in the 2004 election.

Except it didn't, and he didn't, and we didn't. It's still a movie, after all. Green Zone is a provocative look at the state of our military and the internal power struggles between front-line soldiers, Washington bureaucrats and less-than-intrepid journalists. (Please, don't assume that all journalists are as stupid as Lawrie Dayne, the reporter in the movie who broke the WMD story without verifying her sources.)

Rating: 4/5
Description: Part war movie, part who-dunnit, part expose` on Washington, Green Zone questions whether our government wants us to know, or simply to believe.

*Note: I know a journalist who worked in the Green Zone at the palace who avoided being blown up by a matter of seconds. His friend, whom he'd stopped to talk with while she was sunning herself by the pool, wasn't so lucky. There's no safe place in a time of war.

Like a Boss

Maybe college doesn't deserve quite the bad rap I tend to give it. According to this list of ways to live like a professional triathlete, UT-Knoxville actually does a great job of keeping me in the fray.

For example:

1 // Live near your training venues. Bike rides out my front door? Check. Ten-mile runs from my apartment? Check. Aquatic center within walking/biking distance, and a gym to boot? Check.

5 // Sleep lots. I don't care if it means going to bed at 11 p.m.  I consistently get 8-9 hours a night now, after suffering through my late-late-night desk job last summer. By the end of two months working shifts from 4 a.m. to 8 a.m., my body was wrecked. Of course, the tiny paychecks tied in with #7.

7 // Keep your overhead low. Really? I'm in college. This doesn't need explaining.

9 // Keep it fun. The foremost reason I joined the triathlon club. The best friends, the best exercise, the balance I needed to stay sane. 

Sure, the idea of being a professional is far-fetched. And no, I'm not having a Breaking Away  moment. The point is, have a dream and make it happen. Follow a few basic rules and your quality of existence will be exponentially better. Now, back to SPRING BREAK OH-TEN!!

A Theory on Speed

Imagine there are only three types of terrain: 6% uphill grade, flat, and 6% downhill. Also imagine that wind speed is constant for each, and road friction is equal.

If you're riding a bike, do you think it's easier to increase your speed by 2 miles per hour on an uphill, flat ground, or a downhill (ex: to go from 13 to 15 mph, or from 20 to 22 mph, or from 26 to 28 mph)?

If you guessed downhill, I would say you are correct. Even if you don't have any practical experience on a bike, here's my advice.

1. Use gravity. You can coast down a hill thanks to gravity. You can't coast up a hill from a complete stop. It has something to do with potential and kinetic energy. Look it up.

2. . . . that's pretty much it. Gravity is awesome. Newton was awesome. Fig Newtons are awesome, despite what some of the organic food Nazis commenters on that particular forum say. Go fast on the downhills and save your legs the misery of trying to crank any harder up an incline.

*Full disclosure: I am not a scientist. I remember a little bit about physics from 11th grade. I put this theory to the test during the Dogwood Time Trial and it seemed to work. Have fun trying it out!

Dogwood Trail Time Trial

All the endurance sports outlets made a big deal last week about the Lance Armstrong/Chris Lieto Twitter Time Trial on Hawaii's Queen K highway. Well, I challenged Knoxville's own Allan J. Hamilton to a Dogwood Trail Time Trial (pdf) this past Sunday.

By the numbers:

• 2 men
• 2 pairs of reflective tights
• 1 pair of insulated shoe covers
• 9.1 miles
• 39 degrees

Bitter winds took their toll on my fingers. Halfway through, I could barely shift gears. At the end, my lungs felt like they were lined with liquid nitrogen. If I haven't mentioned it before, I'm not a cold-weather guy; I do much better in the heat.

Still, though, I mustered one of my fastest rides of the year to take the win. In 28:02, at a speed of 19.5 mph, I beat Allan by just over two minutes. The last time I tried this, back in August, it took me 28:45 at 18.9 mph. It was a good, fair race, and it led me to postulate a theorem on average speed, which will be found in my next post.